A King At Last
by Keithan
Summary: No intricate plots, no long deep musings and thinking, no action or romance, just plain and simple fics on Aragorn, his identity, his doubt and acceptance, and his friendship with his comrades (Legolas mainly).
1. El Corona de Hombre

disclaimers: even common sense is not needed to know that lotr isn't mine and never will be mine.  
a/n: i planned to make a short fic in tribute to the artist that is no other than viggo mortensen, yet it became an lotr fic about the character that he portrayed. forgive my spanish, i know nothing of it. _El Corona de Hombre_ is supposed to be understood as _The Crown of Men_. please correct me if it's not correctly used, or.. whatever. just tell me! ^__^

i used some snippets from the book (besides bilbo's poem) and the movie. you have very keen eyes and memory if you spot them. ^__^ *lol* this is based from both book and movie.  
'single quotation marks are words in elvish'

_"All that is gold does not glitter,  
       Not all those who wander are lost;  
The old that is strong does not wither,  
       Deep roots are not reached by the frost.  
From the ashes a fire shall be woken,   
       A light from the shadows shall spring,  
Renewed shall be the blade that was broken,  
       The crownless again shall be king."_

**A KING AT LAST__________****  
**part 1: el corona de hombre

"He is no mere ranger." The Elf stated, leaving his seat, and looked evenly at Boromir. 

There was immediate silence as soon as those words left his lips. All that were present had looked upon Legolas, a messenger from his father, Thranduil, the King of the Elves of Northern Mirkwood. If it was the quiet air of nobility around him, the determined look on his face, or just the strength in his uttered words alone that made them all unspeaking, one couldn't be sure of.

The Man of Gondor turned to the Elf. Surely, the ranger couldn't be more than what he seemed as the Elf had said. He wanted to respond, but it looked as if he, too, was rendered speechless by the way those words were spoken, so full of power.

"He is Aragorn, son of Arathorn and heir to the throne of Gondor." His eyes never leaving Boromir he continued, "You owe him your allegiance." 

Frodo's eyes widened slightly. His head immediately snapped to where Strider was sitting. He had known that Strider was certainly more that what he seemed, but it had not occurred to him that he was indeed much, much more!

Legolas maintained his proud stand in front of Boromir of Gondor. He watched the brief transition in the Man's eyes, from that of pride and honor to slight disbelief. He held high respect for Aragorn. Seeing and hearing others wrongly place themselves above him is not something he'd tolerate as his friend. Aragorn deserves far more respect that what was being given to him. 

'Havo dad, Legolas.' Aragorn said with a gentle wave of his hand, using a language unknown to Boromir. 'Twas a humble command.

Legolas then turned to the Man in question when he addressed him. And at that short moment, with such small gesture, he had seen more of the king in him than he'd been able to glimpse at before.

The Elf then nodded to him, his eyes telling Aragorn that he only heeded at his request. Had he not stopped Legolas, he'd make sure Boromir realizes Aragorn's honor, his place and what he clearly was and would be.

Boromir turned to Aragorn, who had not said anything in reply to what had already been said of him. Half of the council had their eyes on the last descendant of Númenor, silently studying the quiet king. And half was turned to him. He hadn't felt so trapped under other's scrutiny ever before in his life. He continued to hold his head high and said, "Gondor have gone long enough without a king," He walked over to his seat and before sitting down, he added, "She needs no king."

Bilbo frowned and stirred impatiently in his seat, annoyed on his friend's behalf. Deciding that it was his turn to stand up in his friend's defense, he did so. And for a hobbit so small compared to a towering height of an Elf or Man, he stood as tall as he could, with all his courage, and said,

            "All that is gold does not glitter,  
                        Not all those who wander are lost;"

He stopped when someone continued. He looked back towards his side and Frodo, who seemed to be reaching to his mind for the words, delivered the next lines,

            "The old that is strong does not wither,  
                        Deep roots are not reached by the frost."

Looking back to the rest of the council, Bilbo continued, Frodo joining him.

            "From the ashes a fire shall be woken,   
                        A light from the shadows shall spring,"

            "Renewed shall be the blade that was broken,"

The soft voice of Legolas continued, stopping both hobbits, his look and tone a bit thoughtful as his eyes was cast downwards. He paused a moment, and only the chirping of the birds in a nearby tree together with the soft singing of the flowing waters were heard.

Then raising his eyes, now full of assurance and trust, he met Aragorn's own. And with renewed certainty and conviction, he continued, soft and slowly, yet it seemed it was announced so loudly to those who heard it that the effect of it was clear.

                        "The crownless again shall be king."

The sun was nearing it peak, for only a few hours were left ere noon. In the distance, the sounds of playful birds, their merry chirping and the soft flapping of their wings, seemed to echo in the open space of the place of their council. No one spoke for each was taking in the words that had been said and the stories that had been told since that morning.

And all looked upon Aragorn, son of Arathorn in a whole new light.

**to be continued...**

a/n: no intricate plots, no long deep musings and thinking, no action or romance, just plain and simple fics on aragorn and his identity, his doubt and acceptance, and friendship (of course legolas being one of my fav. char, he'll certainly be here as well). 

_you owe him your allegiance, _ is one line that makes you look at legolas in an oh-so-great manner. the way orlando delivered it was so powerful and so strong it immediately got my attention. actually his short speech before that also did get my attention. 

*havo dad, legolas - sit down, legolas* and this line of aragorn, viggo said it so gently yet it carried a kingly grace and the way he waved his hand is just so fitting for a humble king. 


	2. Una Estrella en Oscuridad

disclaimers: aragorn and legolas are mine. go ahead and believe that, you might find yourself in a mental institution.  
a/n: in the movie, aragorn's doubt is portrayed more than in the books, or at least i think so. and even though arwen tried to clear those doubts that reside in the future king's heart, i think aragorn could need some assurance from someone much like himself as well, a warrior in a battlefield that shares his sentiments, or from a trusted friend. and just guess who did i found that could fit that?

again, forgive my spanish. _Una Estrella en Oscuridad_ is supposed to mean _A Star in Darkness_. online translators aren't really that very much, 100% reliable, so, pardon, pardon, pardon.. correct me if you must. ^___^

thank you to all who reviewed! =)  
Y.. thanks for dropping a line here too! nothing's wrong with _Things Unspoken_. the next part is still being written, that's all. i'm sorry for such long delay. *sheepish grin* it's just that, that fic is sucking out all the little eloquency i've ever had! nah, kidding, i just need more time for that fic. just help me pray for my computer, if she's fine, then i'm fine, i mean my work is fine. -_-

**A KING AT LAST__________**  
part 2: una estrella en oscuridad 

Aragorn had not been the most calm and untroubled soul at the time. Leaning on the balcony's rail that overlooked a part of the gardens of the House of Elrond, he had tried to at least place in the back of his mind, if not forget, everything that concerned the ring.

Great would be the days that would come, and great would be their journey. It was today's peril that would be sang in songs, recited in rhymes and verses, and told in stories tomorrow. A fellowship of nine was chosen, and soon will set out on a path unknown and to the very fires of Mordor they'd bravely go. 

But that is, if they would survive the long and perilous journey. Also, his hour was drawing near.

He pushed away from the balcony and turned his back to the gardens. It had hurt to just look at its natural beauty knowing they were burdened with such heavy a task on their shoulders. As he turned and leaned back on the balcony's railing, arms crossed at his chest, he saw Legolas, pretty much in the same position as him, leaning on the doors leading inside, head bowed as if waiting for recognition. 

He was right. As soon as his eyes were laid on the Elf, Legolas turned to him and walked over, giving a nod as a silent greeting. He took his place beside Aragorn and looked at the gardens the Man had turned away from.

Aragorn looked at him in question, and then when the Legolas said nothing, he relaxed once more and bowed his head, closing his eyes. He was glad that Legolas had no very urgent news to tell, as he had first thought, but was there for mere companionship. At that moment, he stopped himself from thinking and worrying and just let himself feel the world around him, the cool night air calming him.

"It's nice to let yourself go, even once in a while," Legolas said softly, as he, too, had his eyes closed, taking in as much air his lungs could hold. "Is it not, Aragorn?" He said, turning his head to the ranger, eyes smiling in playfulness. 'Or would I start practicing myself to get used to calling you Strider?' He continued, adopting the Elvish tongue. He tilted his head to regard him for a while.

Aragorn, shrugging his shoulders, made a sound as he let out a soft puff of air. He looked up at Legolas and gave him a smile. "Nay, my friend. Aragorn is fine as it is." He said, the hesitant smile on his lips.

Legolas studied him for a moment more before asking, 'Is it?' his words still in Elvish.

He had never failed to capture attention when his voice would suddenly shed its playfulness and turn into a more serious, thought-provoking tone. And he proved that he wasn't going to start then as Aragorn was surprised to hear such question and was currently at lost.

'Strider symbolizes your freedom, freedom from responsibilities more than that of a "mere" ranger. Don't act so innocent, Aragorn.' he said, smiling and lightening the mood by also lightening his tone. He turned his back to the gardens as well and jumped up to the rail to perch himself comfortably on it. 'You know the difference I speak of.'

Aragorn felt the corners of his lips slightly turn up. 'Perhaps I do, Legolas.' He said, although doubtfully. Now, he, himself, slipped into Elvish, feeling the change of the two languages, yet couldn't state exactly what that change was. Sometimes the Common Speech seemed so limited, restraint and so.. common while Elvish seemed comforting and secure. There were also times, though much more rare, when they were the other way around.

He uncrossed his arms and his left hand instinctively fingered the hilt of the broken sword resting on the left side of his hip. 'Though I'm afraid my knowledge doesn't include the similarities.' he said.

'Then your knowledge needs to be broadened.' The Elf said, a bit more seriously yet still maintaining his cheerful disposition. It was as if he was a child who knew something that Aragorn did not. 'For any similarities are very evident to me.' 

The ranger glanced back at Legolas, seeing him with a grin on his fair face. He just shook his head, amused.

'Then your eyes must deceive you, my friend. Isildur's heir, I am, I was told. Yet I think I lived far too long as a ranger to suddenly come back to.. who, they say.. I really am.' He said, smiling a bit thoughtfully.

'You think much too less of yourself, Aragorn, son of Arathorn.' Legolas answered, shaking his head like a mother would to her doubtful child. 'If I could grant you one gift, I'd grant you the ability to see yourself as others see you.'

Aragorn gave him a side-glance. And in the darkness of the night, Legolas stood out, sitting on the balcony and seemingly glowing in contrast to the dark surroundings. If anyone were to pass by down below, they'd see how the Elf could be likened to a dim candle in a dark room.

'Just so you could see how Aragorn and Strider are one and the same, and how worthy you are of who you "really are."' Legolas thought it was best for Aragorn to actually see the similarities and differences himself as being the King that he would be and the Ranger that he usually was, rather than him pointing it out for him. He wouldn't be helping him in that way.

How Aragorn had wanted to believe those words. Yet try as he might, doubt was still there.

'The same blood runs in my veins being Isildur's heir.' He said. 'The same weakness...'

'You would not fall,' Legolas said, cutting him of, turning, once again, serious. 'For it is in your power to decide your fate unless fate itself withdraws from you.' Such a paradox, a self-contradicting statement, yet it held true, that only someone with wisdom from age could say to him and have him thinking. 

'The choice is yours. If you fall, it is but your own doing, your own weakness, not Isildur's or Elendil's. And if you do not, then 'tis your own strength that will carry you to the highest heavens, over the deepest seas, and above the towering mountains.'

The trees rustled as the wind softly blew, and Legolas brought his hand up to place a stray strand of hair behind his ears.

Aragorn had not said anything. The Elf was right. Whatever weakness he might manifest could not be blamed on anyone but himself. It was his way, his own life, that he was walking, and not his ancestors'. Yet at that point, he didn't trust himself enough to be free from any doubts and fears. He wouldn't know what he'd do if the time would come when he, too, would succumb to human weakness, making him no different from his them.

He shook his head then, a superficial effort to rid his mind of the senseless thought and useless worry, as he'd like to believe. He just smiled and turned around once more, folding his arms above the balcony to lean comfortably on them.

'Are you imparting me with wisdom you've acquired for years, old Elf?' Aragorn said, mildly teasing, looking at Legolas through the corner of his eyes.

'And now you jest, Strider.' Legolas exclaimed in amusement, an eyebrow raised. He certainly was amused at how Aragorn could easily slip into different moods as swift as he could change a topic. He let him be. 'I know you know that I am too young to be considered old or ancient or even a walking history book as the Lord Elrond is, and by that I mean no offense.'

Aragorn looked at the Elf for a moment, surprised, then he laughed. Never had he heard anyone voice out a comparison between Elrond and, dare he even think, a history book. Which was, if he might add, very much appropriate! 'You, Legolas, find the most absurd, yet very true comparison I had ever heard in my entire life!'

Legolas let out a soft laugh, more of a chuckle. 'That, my friend, also comes with age.'

The ranger then shook his head, still laughing. Amusing and funny, Legolas was, if he chooses to be. 

Setting aside his mirth once his laughter slowly left him, he said, 'When my time comes, and you've gained years enough to be labeled as such, ' He turned to his side to face the Elf, looking up to him. 'I could only hope I'm included in that book, though because of what, I'm not sure I'd want to know.'

Legolas' smile never left his lips yet the graveness of his tone was back. 'I see I am in no position to clear your doubts, for only you, alone, could do that. The least I could do is help you and lift them, even though how barely so.' Then he laughed, the sound melodious and pleasant to anyone near enough to hear. 'I just wish all my standing up during Lord Elrond's council would not go to waste.'

Aragorn turned to look at him. 'You've done much more for me than what I could ever ask of you.' he said in the perfect Elvish and accent he'd learned from living amongst the fair folk. 'You, Bilbo, and even Frodo. You have believed when even I myself do not.'

'Then believe, Aragorn.' Legolas replied, sliding down from his seat to stand on his feet. 'For is it not said that from the ashes a fire shall be woken, and a light from the shadows shall spring?'

Aragorn then felt himself smiling wholeheartedly, a grateful smile that washed all the lines of ages from his face. 'Thank you, old friend.'

Legolas shook his head in dismissal. ''Tis nothing, Dúnadan, Man of the west. Nothing I would not have wanted to do.' 

"They are but names, are they not?" Aragorn said, now in Common Speech, as both walked back to the inside corridors of Elrond's house. 

At this, Legolas eyes only glinted as he smiled. "Aye, they are."

**to be continued..**

a/n: i told you before, no intricate plots, no long deep musings and thinking, no action or romance, just plain and simple fics (since they could be solo fics) on aragorn and his identity, his doubt and acceptance. and since i couldn't, for the life of me, separate those two, i threw in a shadow of legolas and aragorn's strong friendship, in this fic at least.  
(points up) i hope legolas' youth (at least in comparison to elrond) showed? i really didn't want him to be all gandalf-type and seem to be old. that's why history books, 'ancientness' and elrond popped into my mind. *poof*


End file.
